Sad is a word, and so is fucked
And I cannot be one who is now
A word or even a sound loud as a tear
It is a secret wound
A death of truths and their sunny ruins
A mind torn away to etch itself into missing here
Into my misery
Like a wry smile lost in a found isolation
A coy pain
A somber puddle of joy dehydrating like time will
Disappearing into a place that will not ever leave me
It is a ghost that fills my body’s lone flesh
A memory of hopes that have died before the lightening came
Just to laugh at myself
And the madness that will transcend what was erased
Just like justice joking and choking on the pit of sacred love
My life, my loving; It has never been about ‘me’.
And here I am surrounded by the selfish world of pain’s might
Of painful victories turning yesterdays into oblivions way
Go away pity
Good-bye waste of shame; all irrelevant blame.
Hello you cannot maintain, or ever end my love.
Fuck you, Thief of Mental Heath
Fuck! The anger will not last.
© Copyright 2008 C.C. Arshagra
From “The Poetry of Good-bye” manuscript series and collection. (Unpublished work)
Me, Myself, and Die
I really do not like to use ‘fuck’ and words like that in my poetry, but in this one I DID.
Jen Whyte, 4 months ago
OMG you are in my head and putting my thoughts on paper … this is exactly how it is!!!
Mariam Muradian, 4 months ago
The line “A memory of hopes that have died before the lightening came” just breaks my neck and brings me to my knees in tears.
“Hello you cannot…ever end my love.” We share these words, my love.
PW
XO
C.C. Arshagra in reply to Jen Whyte’s comment, 4 months ago
DID you say it is …
C.C. Arshagra in reply to Mariam Muradian’s comment, 4 months ago
Yes. We do!
AH
XO
caroline caux-..., 4 months ago
very strong and releasing of pain,to let go of this profound craving!
a need, a must sometimes, in despair.
A very thought provoking scream!
C.C. Arshagra in reply to caroline caux-evans’s comment, 4 months ago
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaH!
Jen Whyte, 4 months ago
I may have … you read my thoughts!
lianne, 4 months ago
My life, my loving; It has never been about ‘me’. This poem is almost visceral it reaches so deeply into the heart of loving, of loss. I am so very sorry I missed it last week while I was away – it is tremendously moving – odd how this terrible grief is also a terrible anger, nearly fatal.